Days in the Sun Eclipsed
by Hathor-Aroha
Summary: Lumiere watches the young Prince Adam grow more cold and harsh toward himself and the other servants, even to the point of returning a gift of three juggling balls to him. In adulthood, post-curse, he discovers them again in an old trunk, and the memories come flooding back, along with a new reason to celebrate with Adam about their respective loves, Plumette and Belle.


**Days in the Sun Eclipsed**

Days had passed since the passing of the prince's poor mother to the illness that claimed her–consumption, the doctors diagnosed. But no one had to be a doctor to recognise the red spots of coughed up blood on a handkerchief hailing the arrival of Death at her doorstep. Less than forty-eight hours later, she had passed away in her sleep. The prince had refused to leave her bedside, not until his father had grabbed him by the shoulders and steered him out of the room. He had not even been allowed even a final farewell during the funerary wake, his father "explaining" that the boy had spent long enough at her bedside post-mortem to say a proper goodbye to her. When the boy looked about to cry–Lumiere had been there at the time to see it–his father struck him across the face, sternly telling him that a man never should show such weakness. When Lumiere had interrupted to defend the boy prince, the father simply glowered at him.

"Quiet, old fool, you dare question how I raise the prince?"

Lumiere–who really wasn't that old at all, merely in his twenties–squared his shoulders. "I offer advice that is all."

"Then consider your "advice" dismissed. The prince is mine to raise alone, not yours or anyone else's. He is a man, not a boy, and I alone will raise him."

 _He is all but seven years old!_ Lumiere had protested in his head, but did not dare say aloud, lest he risk his career at the castle. He certainly wasn't about to risk never seeing Plumette again.

He could only hope that somehow the boy would cling on to the good his mother had instilled in his heart, and he would still feel safe enough to come to the servants he had always trusted including himself, Mrs Potts, Chapeau, and of course, his cherished Plumette.

* * *

Nearly a year had passed since the death of the prince's mother, and already Lumiere could see the changes in how the boy approached others, including himself. He was alarmed when he had overheard Mrs Potts murmuring to the other kitchen staff, her young forehead wrinkled with consternation, about how the boy never smiled or said "thank you" for a cup of tea anymore. As a matter of fact, sometimes she'd find the tea undisturbed, left to grow cold for hours before someone else cleared it away. The chief added in how the boy now demanded this or that and became increasingly inclined to complain about any little nitpick in the meal. Even Chapeau chimed in to say how the boy would just toss his cloak or whatever else at him and tell him to clean it up or put it away for him.

A shiver had gone up his spine–not one year had elapsed since his mother's death, and now he already was changing for the worse under his father's thumb.

 _There's still hope,_ he convinced himself, _Maybe he'll come around soon enough._

It was an exceedingly rare time when his hopes could be trampled upon, but one particular evening happened to be one of those times. He had been talking with Plumette in the servant quarters when the young prince walked in, an uncharacteristically sombre look in his eyes as he went up to Lumiere, carrying something in his hands.

"Hello, Prince Adam," Lumiere greeted him with his characteristic grin, "Come to join the conversation?"

He didn't smile back, not even a twitch of his lips, simply holding out the three juggling balls Lumiere had gifted to him when the boy had turned four.

"Oh, you want me to juggle for you?" Lumiere put down his glass of wine and held out his hands, palms up.

But the boy dumped the blue, red, green, and yellow trio of juggling balls in the man's hands.

"I don't want to juggle anymore. It is for children."

Lumiere, struck dumb for a second, quickly recovered himself and as lightly as possible, "It's for everyone–look at me, a grown man and I still love juggling!"

"I do not care to juggle anymore."

And with that, the boy spun on his heel and strode out of the room, leaving Lumiere to stare at the juggling balls, heart sinking in devastation. Only Plumette's hand curling around his wrist, and her head leaning on his shoulder, eased at least an edge off his numb shock.

 _He's gone now._

His hands convulsed, fingers clenching around the juggling balls in sudden anger.

"I hate his father," he hissed between clenched teeth, "And we can do nothing."

One of Plumette's hands came up to rest against his cheek, providing some consolation.

"I know," she whispered, "All we can do is pray, my love."

"For his sake, I hope you're right."

* * *

Now, in the present day, nearly eight months since the curse was lifted, Lumiere found himself perched on the edge of his bed, an opened dusty trunk at his feet. He had been dragging out trunks everything–literally everything–he had kept over a lifetime of serving at the castle. Every year, without fail, Plumette would try to persuade him that he surely didn't need all that stuff anymore, but Lumiere always kept everything "just in case". He couldn't remember a day he'd ever thrown anything away. Now "just in case" had arrived, Plumette with child. An hour ago, she had thrown on a cloak, informing Lumiere she was going on a walk with Belle to talk about something "important", strongly hinting at it with a hand on her round belly.

Now here he was, staring at those three juggling balls again. They had been tucked in a corner of this trunk–one of the very last five to rummage through–and a split-second later, memories had come flooding back, of teaching the young boy juggling basics, how he had made a show out of a standing ovation the first time the young prince got something right, and the day he'd had them returned to him out of the blue.

 _Does he even remember anything about it now?_ he wondered.

A firm knock at the door jolted him out of his musings, standing up too quickly to stop himself tripping over the open trunk, sprawling over it, juggling balls going three separate ways. Standing up, he brushed himself off and strode to the door–a quick glance at a clock told him it was past eleven at night. Opening the door, he was pleasantly surprised to see the prince on the other side, two wine glasses in one hand and a wine bottle in the other.

"Oh, you're still up?" Adam commented, "I was hoping to celebrate with you about Belle."

 _I knew it!_

"I know, Adam, congratulations!"

The prince's mouth dropped open in surprise. "How…how did you know?"

A casual, off-hand shrug. "Plumette went off to have a "very important chat" with Belle. You might say I put two and two together."

Adam looked over Lumiere's shoulder, "Been sorting through your eight million trunks I see."

Reminded again of what he had just found in the trunk, he looked away from the prince so he might not see any hint of sadness in his expression.

"Not quite eight million, my prince, but getting there."

Prince Adam strode to a table next to a window overlooking the garden outside, wine glasses clinking as he set them down along with the full bottle of rich red wine.

"Care to come sit down?"

"After I tidy up," Lumiere said quickly, now moving to dump everything into the trunk.

Behind him, Adam laughed. "Or dump everything in the suitcase."

"I don't have time to waste folding and tucking everything in neatly thank you."

"Mrs Potts–"

"Would be appalled, yes, I know."

He knew Mrs Potts had long ago given up on chastising him about his wrinkled clothes when ironing them. Bless her, she'd tried at first, but soon realised it was futile to try and "fix" his less than tidy treatment of putting away his clothes. Not even Plumette could persuade him.

"Are those juggling balls down there on the floor?"

Lumiere glanced over at them, "I suppose they are," he said, voice as off-casual as possible. "Nothing…special."

"Oh I don't know, Lumiere, it sounds like they're special to you."

He took his time picking them up, two in one hand and one in the other. Idly tossing one up and down, he turned to face the prince again.

"They were special once." he concurred.

The prince grinned, raising his glass, "Show us a trick or two, Lumiere."

"To be fair, I probably forgot everything after spending over a decade as a candelabra."

Adam still didn't give up hope. "Maybe you remember something."

"I'll give it a go then."

Lumiere threw one ball up in the air, quickly transferring a second to his empty palm, before throwing up the third in the air. He managed this for all of three seconds before he somehow ended up tossing one of them onto the table, right into Adam's drink. He couldn't help a small flinch, left over from the days of when the prince was a volatile Beast, almost as if he still expected him to snap at him.

To his relief, the prince threw his head back with a laugh. "Now there's a trick I want to see again." With a flick of his wrist, he brought the glass up to his lips, sipping it with an exaggerated look of thoughtfulness. "Hmm…interesting new taste to the wine. Dusty with an edge of childhood memories. Not sure the rest of France will take to the unique flavour though. It would be an acquired taste." Putting it down again on the table, the prince fished out the ball, a new look of surprise on his face, "Huh, there's some writing here."

Lumiere's initial laugh gave way to silence. "Writing?"

"For the young prince," he read aloud, "Interesting. You already guessing at the sex of Belle and I's baby?"

Lumiere sat down across from the prince, setting down the other two balls, pouring himself a glass of wine.

"Actually, that had been for another prince."

"Another prince?"

"A prince that once loved to watch me juggle, and was beyond ecstatic when I gifted him with these juggling balls for his fourth birthday. See? Four colours, one for each year. If you're four, that is."

"If they're a gift, then why do you have them?"

"The prince didn't want them anymore. Probably his father said juggling was for children. Imagine," he took a long sip from his glass, "An eight year old child, who lost his mother barely a year ago, suddenly saying such play was only for children. His father…was a cruel man."

Adam snapped his head up to stare at Lumiere, his expression stricken.

"Lumiere, are you saying that these once were mine?"

"A gift."

"And I _gave them back_ to you?"

"Yes."

The prince slammed a fist on the table, making their wine glasses jump. "My father's doing, no doubt."

"Of course."

Adam reached to grab the other two juggling balls, holding them in his other hand. He looked back up at Lumiere.

"Lumiere, if you don't mind me…."

"Have them. They were a gift in the first place."

"I've probably forgotten everything," the prince shook his head in dismay, "How can I show my future baby how to juggle?"

Lumiere leaned back in his chair, folding his arms. "First, you only have to ask me, and yes, of course I'll show you some tricks again. Now show me what you can do."

But the prince hesitated, seeming unsure of the first thing to do.

"I mean beyond just _staring_ at them. Try throwing one up in the air."

The tension in the air seemed to disappear at once with the prince's laugh, joined soon enough by Lumiere.

"Alright, alright, I get it, Lumiere."

With that, he tossed one up in the air, and in trying to catch it again, nearly knocked over the wine bottle. Mercifully, Lumiere's quick reflexes saved the table cloth from a fresh new red dye.

"Good start, Adam, but try not to knock over the wine bottles."

"Says the man who managed to juggle one right into my glass. I admit, it offered a new possible beverage item to add to the wine list during the next festival."

"Well, I think the baby can afford to wait a few more years before showing him that particular wine trick."

The prince grinned, setting down the juggling balls again on the table, picking up his glass of wine as if to initiate a toast.

"But first, let's toast to Plumette and to Belle."

Lumiere picked up his glass, raising it in the prince's direction. "To Plumette and Belle."

 _Clink!_


End file.
